Beyond the Mirror
by Nearly headless Natalie
Summary: Set in Harry's third year, Remus Lupin ponders over Sirius Black's choices, battles with his conscience, and tries to forget the deep longings of the past.


_**I own nothing, nada, zip--all belongs to JK Rowling and the blasted movie makers, may they finally be able to do the books justice. This story takes place Third year, after Lupin saves a certain green-eyed Gryffindor from the angry Potions Master and confiscateds the Mauraders Map. The first line comes from the book, just to lead into the story. Enjoy. **_

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them--gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

With as much righteous anger as he could show, he turned on his heel and stamped down the hallway, leaving the two thirteen year old Gryffindors with, most definitely, guilty consciences.

The second he escaped around the corner, however, the façade of virtuous dignity melted away into the similar look of guilt the boys were portraying.

Quickly slipping behind a statue of Doric the Dense, the wizard who stepped into a boiling cauldron to see what would happen, he pulled out his wand and looked at the old piece of parchment in his hand.

It was plain and boring enough. The paper was slightly yellowed from age, but still intact. All that was written on the parchment were the sharp-witted insults towards the unpleasant Potion's Master, which were, themselves, slowly fading away, while the recipient of these taunts let them sink deeper in his bitter soul.

But Severus Snape wasn't on the top of his list of thoughts. The man looked around him once more before whispering, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Fireworks of green ink exploded from the spot where he had touched the tip of his wand. They spread into the great curvy words, reading:

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are Proud to Present The Marauder's Map."

The paper, which had been, a mere moment ago, so devoid of activity, was bustling with new life. Hallways were outlined, secret passages were revealed, and active members of the staff and student body (McGonagall was sitting at her desk, Snape was pacing, probably fuming, in his office, a first year was going around in circles, completely and totally lost, most likely the cause being Peeves who seemed to be ahead of him). Two dots labeled Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were just in front of the Gryffindor Tower, met by Hermione Granger. And he, Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a pure, unmarked, and innocent teacher, was crouching in the shadows behind the ugly statue of Doric the Dense, greedy as a little child for a taste of his old, rule-bending life…

His logical brain, which had finally returned to him, made him clear the map (with a hissed "Mischief managed."), pocket both wand and parchment, and continue his walk down the hallway.

He knew what he had to do with the map--destroy it. Burn it, discard it--whatever. Just erase its presence from the earth entirely. That map was the only thing that tied him to his past--to his life before graduation--to his days with James--Peter--

_And Sirius Black_?

Sirius…yes, he couldn't be connected with Sirius anymore than he already was. Did the staff think he was an idiot? Did they think, that along with being a werewolf, that he was also deaf as well? He heard the whispers--the broken conversations as he entered the staff room or sat at the Head Table. They were smiling to his face…but what did they think when his back was turned? Did they believe, as Severus Snape so certainly thought, that he was helping Sirius Black into the castle? That he, as one of his former best friends, was the one that was after Harry? That, he too, was a spy to Voldemort…

A spy. No. But he was as good as helping Sirius Black into the castle, as if he were letting him stroll in the front door.

He suddenly realized he had walked much farther than he had wanted to; his office had been the target, but his thoughts had driven him deeper into the castle. The library. Yes, he would go to the library. There was nothing better than to think it all over in there.

Continuing with his brooding walk, he pondered whether it was indeed wise to destroy the map. Two out of four of the founders were dead--James first and then Peter a mere day later. Sirius was out there somewhere, biding his time, probably raving mad from Azkaban--so why not leave the secret with himself? No one would know that he still had the map, hidden away…and besides, what harm could it do?

The voice that was telling him this was so enchanting, so charming that he found himself believing it. Yes…the map couldn't hurt anyone. The map was just a little trifle compared to the other horrors in the world, like world hunger, or violent storms, or--yes, Sirius Black, the Dark Lord's right hand man.

At the reminder of his former friend, he stopped dead in his tracks. He found that he was way past the library now--but no matter. Now he knew what he had to do--see Dumbledore. Yes, the truth would finally set his guilty conscience free. He would tell Dumbledore everything--about the map, about the creation of three illegal Animagi because of his own abnormality, the fact that Sirius Black already had slipped into the castle as a dog twice…

His gait became smaller and slower. By the time the gargoyles loomed ahead of the door to Dumbledore's office, he was walking no faster than a child's first tentative steps. Finally, he stopped moving entirely, as if his legs were cemented to the ground. He fingered the piece of parchment in his pocket, remembering the great times he had spent with the company of the other creators, the laughter, the utter and complete betrayal of Dumbledore's sacred trust…

With swift steps, his robes billowing behind him slightly in his haste, he turned right down the hallway, escaping the unpleasant sight of Dumbledore's office door. Emotions flooded through him as he practically fled down the hallway--heartache at the loss of his friends, disgust at his own cowardice, and anger--anger at himself--that he did not see the traitor beneath the smiling, handsome face before it was too late…

Blindly, he hurried down stairways and through deserted hallways until he hit a dead end. There was a door that three Gryffindor third years would have recognized well--it was the door to the third floor corridor where a dog named Fluffy resided briefly…

Quickly, as though it had been his destination all along, he opened the door and slammed it securely behind him. Sliding on the floor, he closed his eyes. His head was throbbing for some odd reason…perhaps his walk had been too much exercise. After all, he had walked to the other end of the castle. Yet why did it feel as if it wasn't far enough…

He opened his eyes and gasped. In front of him was a large mirror, with an elaborately carved golden frame and clawed feet. Along the top read the words "Erised stra ehru oyt cafru oyt on woshi."

For no reason at all, he rose to his feet and approached the mirror. He saw his reflection…a pale, serious man with slightly graying hair and battered robes…and then he saw the expression on his face turn to shock--and then fear--

There were three young boys behind him, waving and grinning. The boy nearest to the front was slightly chubby, with a rat-like nose and face, and thin blonde hair. The boy to his right seemed to be perfectly at ease with the world. He had messy black hair, sticking up in incalculable directions, with a pair of hazel eyes and plain black glasses. And the last boy…he was handsome, arrogant, and carefree…yet not in a bad way. In an appealing, endearing sort of way that just made him want to laugh at whatever joke the boy was firing out of his clever mouth…

They all waved at him once more. The boy with the messy black hair pulled out a snitch (stolen, most likely) and tossed it up and down in the air with the ease and agility of a Quidditch player. The awkward boy in the front watched enthusiastically, his small, watery eyes aglow with wonder. The handsome boy seemed content just to watch with half-an-eye, throwing him a smile every so often, that he found himself giving back…

Painfully, he tore his eyes away from the heartwarming sight and looked down at the map he had subconsciously pulled from his tattered pocket. A relic of a time long gone--that was all it was. But it was from a time he had friends…a time he thought he knew who his friends were…

He looked back into the mirror. The boy with the glasses had walked over to the handsome boy and murmured something to make the latter laugh heartily. The chubby boy rocked back and forth from his two feet, as though trying to gain the other boys' attentions again. But the pair continued on with their own conversation, as though he had vanished off the planet entirely. It was almost as if they were brothers…

"Remus," said a soft voice from behind him, "What are you doing here?"

He turned around and saw Albus Dumbledore standing by the door way, his ancient wrinkled face and white beard making an odd contrast with the young boys cavorting around in the mirror.

"I--this mirror--it--"

"You know exactly what this mirror is, Remus," the headmaster continued, walking toward him, "It's the Mirror of Erised. You are seeing your deepest desire…what do you see, Remus?"

He took that moment to slip the map back into his pocket and look back at the mirror longingly. The boys waved once more, the one with the glasses suddenly changing into a stag.

"I--I see James and Peter and--"

He stopped and gulped. Here it was--his chance. He could finally tell Dumbledore the truth of what was really going on--

"Sirius Black?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Yes, Professor."

He looked back at the mirror. The large boy gave one last wave and turned into a rat. The handsome boy watched his friend scuttle away before looking back up at him with a serious look, one not ordinarily seen on his smiling face.

"It's not your fault, Remus," Dumbledore said, placing his withered hand on his shoulder, "You couldn't have possibly knew about Sirius."

"But I should have!" he exclaimed, "I should have seen it! It could have been the littlest thing--a weird look in James' direction--missing from his home or from his friends more often--I should have been able to tell that Sirius wasn't James' best friend any more! I think and think and think--but nothing, absolutely nothing I remember makes me think that Sirius was the spy!"

Dumbledore looked pointedly at him. "Do you think that he isn't?"

"No," he murmured, rubbing his temples, "No--I know he had to be. There's just no other way…but I wish he wasn't. Oh, God, I wish he wasn't."

"We can draw lessons from the past, but we cannot live in it, Remus," Dumbledore murmured, patting him the shoulder, "Let it go. Let the past remain that way--in the past. What happened was meant to happen--there's no way of changing it."

The past…yes. He'd leave the secret of his friends there--in the past. Sirius Black was the Dark Lord's heir that got his hand caught in the cookie jar. His knowledge of the Dark Arts had to be vast and enormous--Sirius entered Hogwarts through his Dark Arts mastery…that was all. It had nothing to do with being an Animagi…nothing to do with him…

"Remus?"

"Yes--sorry, Professor. I understand."  
The headmaster smiled warmly down on him. "Good. I'll give you a moment more and then…to supper."

He nodded his head in understanding as Dumbledore closed the door to the room.

For one final time he looked at the mirror. Sirius smiled at him and suddenly transformed into a huge, black, shaggy dog. With that he padded off into the eternity beyond the mirror, fading from sight as Remus hoped that he would fade from his mind…

Outside the great stone wall that separated them, a great black dog sat among the shadows, waiting for an ugly yellow cat to join him in his vigil outside the castle. He whimpered softly--for he too was thinking of a time when he and his friends laughed together--a time that was so close and yet just out of reach…

So the two went their separate ways, not knowing how close they had come to each other--not knowing that they would meet again soon--beyond the mirror…


End file.
